


NCIS ficlets

by bananacosmicgirl



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Gen Work, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananacosmicgirl/pseuds/bananacosmicgirl
Summary: Little ficlets for NCIS, gen or slash. Each stands on its own.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony watches a car burn. Gen or pre-DiNozzo/McGee.

The firefighters had yet to get the fire under control when Tony arrived at the scene. Now he stood close enough to feel the heat of the flames as they licked the car, leaving a blackened shell.

He shuddered. He’d never be able to see a car go up in flames again without imagining himself inside, being scorched beyond all recognition.

It should’ve been him.

He should be dead.

Then again, he should be dead so many times over that it was almost absurd. He’d be very impressed if he survived to his fortieth birthday.

“You okay?”

McGee came up beside him, touching Tony’s shoulder, waking Tony from his thoughts. McGee’s hand felt safe in a world of turmoil. Tony wondered how long he’d been staring at the car wreck.

“Fine, Probie,” Tony said. “Interview the witnesses. We won’t be able to get to the car until its cooled down, anyway.”

McGee gave him a long look that suggested he didn’t believe Tony, that he knew something was wrong. McGee knew Tony better than Tony wanted to admit.

Besides, Tony would be fine. He was always fine.

The fire slowly died down; there was nothing left to burn.


	2. Mondays vs Fridays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony argues that Fridays are better than Mondays. Gibbs/DiNozzo.

“I hate Mondays.”

“So you’ve said.” Gibbs took a sip of his coffee, leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

Tony glanced at him. “It’s not that I don’t like my job. It’s just that—it’s Monday. And that means it’s a whole lot of days until Friday.”

Gibbs’ eyebrow rose. “What is so good about Fridays?”

“Fridays are Fridays. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that Fridays are fantastic?”

“Nope.”

“Well, they are,” Tony said. “Friday nights are the best. The entire weekend, spread out in front of you—it’s great. A world of possibilities – you can party, take a drive someplace, or maybe spend all weekend in bed.”

“In bed, hmh?” Gibbs said, interest coloring his voice.

Tony grinned. “Yes, in bed.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Gibbs asked. Despite Gibbs’ attempt to sound indifferent, Tony heard the light teasing and curiosity.

Tony put on his best innocent face. “Oh, I don’t know… Something fun?”

Gibbs smirked. “Fun?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, coming up close. “So you agree?”

“On the whole Mondays bad, Fridays good?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Nah,” Gibbs said. “I think we can have fun on Monday’s too.”

Tony grinned and kissed him.


	3. Dark Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony sits by Tim’s bedside. He knows that there are dark circles around his eyes; they are becoming terribly obvious now, after twenty-one hours of worry. Pre DiNozzo/McGee.

Tony sits by Tim’s bedside. He knows that there are dark circles around his eyes; they are becoming terribly obvious now, after twenty-one hours of constant worry. He hasn’t slept since they brought Tim in.

Tim.

McGee.

Probie.

Whatever. In his head, Tony calls him Tim now, because he looks like a Tim – a small, pale boy rather than the tall, impressive man he usually is. The one he’s become, the one that Tony has watched over the years, seeing him grow from nervous stuttering to seasoned confidence.

When did it become more than just teasing the probie? When did Tim grow into something more in Tony’s mind? It’s been there for a while – he doesn’t create fake personas to chat with anyone; he wouldn’t have done that if it was a recent crush.

But it was nice to flirt with Tim, to talk to him for hours without having to hide behind a mask of silliness and jokes.

Tony wishes desperately for Tim to open his eyes now, even if it’s only to see Tony’s mask.

Tim’s reddened hands are still against the white hospital sheets. There is a pulse monitor stuck to his finger, and then the bandages start.

Tim looks mummified.

The explosion that knocked Tim out sent shards of glass and shrapnel flying everywhere – most of it into Tim. He shielded most of his face, and the bullet proof vest took a lot of it too, but his arms and legs are cut and burned, as is his neck and his chin. His hands will hopefully regain full function, but the doctors aren’t certain.

Tony wonders what Tim will do if he can’t use his hands. Tim uses his hands for everything and Tony can’t picture Tim unable to perform lightning fast searches and triangulate cell phones and whatever other mumbo-jumbo geek stuff it is he and Abby do.

Tony forces the thoughts away, banning the negative. Positive thinking helps, right? He wants to help.

He hears Gibbs enter the room. Tony knows the sound of those footsteps and he doesn’t need to look up to know that Gibbs is watching him rather than Tim. Gibbs has a way of speaking without talking and Tony can sense Gibbs telling him he should go home, that there’s nothing he can do here – the doctors and nurses are it now. Anthony DiNozzo can rest.

But Tony can’t bring himself to leave.

Gibbs walks to the bed and places a cup of coffee on the table beside the bed. Tony smelled the coffee when Gibbs came in but he didn’t think Gibbs had brought any for him. Still, it’s not unexpected – whenever someone on the team gets hurt, Gibbs gets nicer. Tony has never liked it; Gibbs isn’t supposed to be nice, not like this.

Tony sends him a grateful glance, taking the warm cup and sipping the bitter liquid.

Gibbs sits down in the chair at the other end of the room, leaning back. He looks calm and collected and yet Tony knows that he’s not. Gibbs is as worried as Tony. Gibbs’ mask is as solid as Tony’s.

Tony brings his attention back to Tim.

He watches the slow rise and fall of Tim’s chest, up and down with each breath. He studies the angry red burn marks on what little exposed skin there is; the doctors have bandaged every spot that is more than just slightly reddened, and there are little bits – around Tim’s eyes, nose and cheeks because that’s where he covered himself – that aren’t burned.

Tony wonders how Tim will feel about his looks now. Tony knows Tim’s somewhat vain, and Tony is unsure of how he would look at himself, if it had been him lying on the bed, scarred.

To Tony, Tim is handsome. Perhaps even more now, because Tim is lying here because he took the brunt of a bomb that would have killed them all, had Tim not realized it, taken it and thrown it.

They can’t always be lucky; Tim was just a second too slow, a second too late.

Or just in time, perhaps, because a second later and Tim would be dead instead of unconscious. Tony and Ziva would both be seriously injured, like Tim is now.

Half full, half empty. Tony isn’t sure what he thinks the glass is.

He sighs, wondering what things will be like now. It was impossible to tell Tim before – will this make it even more impossible, or open the door to something new? Will Tim want to hide or be proud? Tony hopes with all his heart for the latter but he’s not sure.

He wants to take Tim’s hand but doesn’t dare, least of all with Gibbs in the room. He’s pretty sure that Gibbs knows that Tony feels something more than just friendship towards Tim, but taking Tim’s hand is like admitting something that Tony still isn’t ready to admit.

Like that he’s in love with Tim.

He blames his lack of courage on rule number twelve.

Tony wishes for Tim to move, for his eyelids to flutter and open, for his mouth to form a tired smile. Tony wishes for things he can’t have, things he doesn’t dare voice.

He sits at Tim’s side, watching and waiting, the circles around his eyes growing darker as the hours pass.


	4. Little Red Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “’If you take the top off, you will find a little red button. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.’” Pre-Gibbs/DiNozzo.

Though he preferred to do Bond imitations, Tony couldn’t resist a Q-line when faced with such a perfect opportunity. Never mind that it was life or death – he needed to vent, just a little, because his heart was racing, nearly as loud as the beeping noise.

“’Now’,” he said, “’If you take the top off, you will find a little red button. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.’”

Gibbs reached out and slapped him across the back of his head, growling, “DiNozzo!”

“Focus, yes, boss, on it.”

Gibbs had got his knife in below the cap and he peeled it off. Tony admired the fact that his boss’ hand didn’t shake in the slightest. For his own part, it wasn’t so much focusing he needed, as it was a need to not disturb Gibbs. They just both happened to be stuck in the room, so he couldn’t leave. Not that he would leave if he could, but…

Gibbs removed the cap. Below was a red button.

Tony let out a nervous snort, ignoring how the beeping noise was even louder now. “What are the odds?”

“Do I have to slap you again?”

Tony shut up. Except shutting up meant hearing the ka-thump of his own heartbeat even louder, as though it was echoing through his head. He knew he was a second from death – a tiny little shake of Gibbs’ hand and the bomb would go off and they’d both paint the walls with their blood and intestines.

Not that Gibbs’ hand would shake, would it?

He tried to stay positive; at least it’d be over fast.

Would Ducky be able to identify their remains? Or would it take Abby’s DNA techy stuff? There wouldn’t be much left of them, that was for sure.

_Beep—beep—be—_

Suddenly, the room drowned in silence and Tony realized with a start that while his thoughts had raced, Gibbs had finished the job on the bomb. Tony got the sudden – but not unexpected, nor new – urge to kiss him.

“Good job, boss.” Tony hoped Gibbs didn’t note the squeakiness of his voice.

Gibbs looked at him, raised eyebrow suggesting that it was all in a day’s work. Which it was, obviously.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Go get the damn door open. I’m not waiting for the police to come break us out of here.”

Tony got to his feet, careful not to touch any part of the bomb. It might not beep anymore, but he was pretty sure it was still dangerous. Being this close to that amount of C4 was bound to be a bad idea.

He thought back to Bond and Q. “Ejector seat. If only.”


	5. Her First Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s been trained for it for years.

She’s trained for it for years. Target practices at shooting ranges, close combat training, hours of lectures on human anatomy, nights of crawling through dirt in camouflage, being invisible. She’s done all that, passed with flying colors.

Now she’s crouching behind bushes with a man in front of her; a man she’s supposed to kill. He isn’t aware that she’s there, doesn’t know his life is about to end. He thinks he’s going to finish reading the morning paper and go to work, that he’ll return to his wife tonight despite the blonde woman still sleeping on the bed.

She wonders what it will be like, taking a life. She’s hungry for it. They’ve said during training that guilt is common, and many break from it. She will not be so weak.

He moves, and she has the perfect angle. She fires, silencer doing its job. He doesn’t have time to react; the bullet impacts his forehead, and he’s dead before he hits the ground, falling off the chair to the floor with a thud.

And then she smiles, because as she looks at the blood pooling around his head, she feels only satisfaction and pride over a job well done.


	6. You scared me, boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Gibbs wakes up, his body aches. Gibbs/DiNozzo.

When Gibbs wakes up, his body aches. Not a sharp, piercing ache, but a dull, throbbing one, which tells him he’s on pain killers. He tries to remember what happened, and he’s pretty sure there was a warehouse and gunshots.

There are always gunshots.

He opens his eyes and smiles at the sight of his Senior Field Agent sleeping in a chair beside the bed. It looks uncomfortable, but then Tony has always been able to sleep in the strangest positions. It’s a part of the job, because in the middle of a case, you never know when you’ll be allowed a moment of shut-eye again.

Tony’s mouth is open, and he snores lightly. He rarely snores, at least not when he’s in a bed. Gibbs knows; he’s watched Tony sleep beside him often enough.

Tony stirs, as though aware of Gibbs’ gaze even while sleeping. Perhaps he is – another ability developed after years of working with a bastard for a boss.

“Gibbs!” Tony nearly falls off his chair when he realizes that Gibbs is looking at him. “You’re awake!”

Gibbs raises an eyebrow at him, silently mocking Tony’s observational skills. Tony ignores it, as he usually does.

“How are you?”

Gibbs mouth is dry, so when he tries to speak, it comes out more like a wheezing hacking than words. He hates it; he hates feeling like he’s had cotton for dinner and he hates waking up in the hospital at all.

His anger washes away as Tony holds an ice chip to his lips, eyebrows knitted with worry.

“You scared me, boss.”

Gibbs bites back a comment about it being part of the job. It is part of the job, but Tony already knows that and it’s not what he needs to hear right now.

“Did ya get the bastard?” he asks instead, voice still rough and rusty although the ice made it better.

Tony smiles. “Yeah. Didn’t even kill him. He’s got a bullet in his leg and they’ll charge him with the murder of Sergeant Philips. Abby got all the evidence she needed.”

Gibbs is proud of Tony’s restraint. If the situation had been reversed, Gibbs isn’t sure he could have – or would have – stopped himself from killing the asshole. The penalty for hurting Tony should always be death.

Tony looks around, checking that no one’s nearby, then presses his lips to Gibbs’ lips. “Get some rest, boss. Need you back on my six.”

Gibbs has some witty retort, but it gets lost somewhere between the kiss and realizing that he is tired. He hates getting shot, he hates the smell of hospitals, and he hates being vulnerable like this.

Still, it’s a little better these days, when Tony takes Gibbs’ hand in his and squeezes, assuring him he won’t wake up alone.


	7. Crime Scene Photos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziva notices things about her co-workers. (For pairing, see end-note.)

They never trained Ziva in taking crime scene photos – just like most things on Gibbs’ team, it’s a matter of learning by doing (and learning fast, no time for slacking). Gibbs simply tells them, “Ziva, photos, DiNozzo, witnesses, McGee, identity,” and they’re off. Ziva figures that taking photos of absolutely everything should ensure a good job, and so she does. 

McGee usually uploads the pictures so they can study them on the big screens, but sometimes he’s busy and Ziva is left sorting them, because Gibbs never wants to see two-hundred shots from a crime scene. It’s when she’s sorting them that she, after a while, notices a pattern. What she finds has nothing to do with the crimes she’s photographing, but everything to do with her co-workers. 

They touch each other in the pictures. Nothing obvious, nothing that anyone would give a second thought, and she wouldn’t have caught it, had it not been happening over and over in the background of the pictures – but it’s there. 

Fingers brushing against each other. 

A hand on the other’s back.

Smiles and gazes. While one is occupied, the other one watches, eyes wandering while interviewing a witness or working on the laptop. 

At first, she believes it to be a coincidence, but Gibbs always says there is no such thing. And after a few months of seeing the same thing happening over and over again in her photos, she concludes that there is more to it.

She takes to watching them a little more closely when they’re in the bullpen, and when she does, she can’t believe she didn’t catch it before. They are so obvious. The way Tony leans over McGee’s shoulder when McGee’s typing away, or the way McGee sidles up to stand next to Tony when they’re presenting background for Gibbs. They always come in separately in the morning and always leave separately, but she hears something soft in their voices when they say their good mornings and good nights. They still play pranks on each other (annoying, childish pranks that she rolls her eyes at), but Tony’s eyes light up in a way they didn’t before when McGee gives him some speech about growing up. 

She doesn’t ask, doesn’t tease them about the way they sometimes seem to communicate without words, and she says absolutely nothing about what she’s realized. She wonders, though, how long it’s been going on. When did they fall for each other? When did they take the leap, when did one tell the other? Which one of them had the guts to risk their heart and job? She’s curious (and she thinks it was McGee), but she respects their privacy. They’ll tell her when they’re ready for it. 

On her computer, she saves some of the best pictures of them together in a special folder (one she’ll never show anyone). She knows it’s silly and hopelessly romantic, but she calls the folder “Love”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McGee/DiNozzo


End file.
